Chapter 60(Rewritten)

Andreevich found himself standing in front of a police station in Kyiv, bundled up in a windbreaker. Heavy snow had fallen the previous night, leaving the ground covered in a thick layer. He exhaled a cloud of warm breath in the cold air, contemplating his situation. He reached into his pocket for a pack of cigarettes, but upon opening it, found it in disarray, with bits of shredded tobacco falling out. Frustrated, he tossed the pack aside, put on his hat, and was about to leave.

Andreevich's situation was far from ideal – he was under investigation, suspected of misappropriating state-owned assets. He had spent two days locked up in the Kyiv police station, enduring relentless questioning. The KGB's Second Bureau had sent someone to interrogate him, and some details had been clarified during the investigation. But...

The KGB in 1991 was different from its earlier iterations in the 1960s and 1970s. The interest groups tied to Andreevich ran deep, and unless the KGB intended to eliminate Ukraine's entire military apparatus, they could only release him.

After assessing the situation, the KGB had no choice but to let him go, albeit with a warning not to leave Kyiv. Andreevich had regarded this warning as nonsense – of course, he planned to leave. He had no intention of waiting around to see what might happen next.

He felt ominous about the arms deal he had brokered, which amounted to at least a billion dollars. Even though the KGB was releasing him, he knew he was a target. Moreover, the top echelons of the Ukrainian military would never let him go free. They needed a scapegoat, someone to appease the higher-ups. And who was the most suitable candidate for that role?

Himself, the broker.

As he stepped out of the police station, he noticed no one there to pick him up – the clearest sign that he was on his own.

"No, I must leave Kyiv," Andreevich thought to himself as he quickened his pace. However, after a couple of steps, he abruptly stopped and glanced behind him. A red car was approaching, its exhaust fumes trailing behind it. It was following him, and he had a clear view of the two burly men in the driver's and co-pilot's seats.

Run!

He discarded his windbreaker while running, reducing unnecessary weight. Realizing that he had been spotted, the driver accelerated and sped toward him. The co-pilot extended his head from the window, wielding a submachine gun.

Andreevich, in good physical shape, sprinted with all his might. Fortune was on his side, as he managed to avoid the hail of bullets by ducking behind a wall.

There was a small forest nearby, and he dashed into it.

"Quick, follow him!" the co-pilot urged the driver, patting him on the shoulder.

"Hey, man, this is a car, not a tank. Get out of here! The police are coming."

Seeing that their attempt had failed, the co-pilot reluctantly closed the car door. He fired a few shots into the air in frustration.

...

Andreevich found himself in disarray, his shirt torn and scratched from the branches in the forest. Gasping for breath, he leaned against a tree, sweat streaming down his face. He rested his hands on his knees and his eyes still held the relief of narrowly escaping death. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. He couldn't believe how quickly someone had tried to kill him.

"Son of a bitch!" he cursed, punching the tree behind him. A moment later, he collapsed to the ground, his arms wrapped around himself as he let out a howl of frustration. A few small animals perched in a nearby tree stared at him with bewildered eyes, as if wondering why anyone would punch such a thick tree.

Andreevich broke into tears. After squatting on the ground for a while, he finally regained his composure. With his right hand trembling, he retrieved his cellphone from his pocket with his left. After some hesitation, he dialed the one number he thought of in this dire situation. After three rings, a familiar voice answered on the other end.

"Hello? This is Nicholas. Who's there?"

"Mr... sir, it's Andreevich."

...

Sitting in his office at Mogadishu International Airport, Tang Dao furrowed his brow, pausing with the pen in his hand. "You want me to help you get out of Ukraine?"

"Yes... yes," Andreevich stammered.

"Has something happened?" Tang Dao put down his pen, stood up, walked to the window, and stared into the distance as he asked in a deep voice. Andreevich's role was crucial in his plans.

"It's nothing serious. I just can't stay in Ukraine right now, and I want to come to you, Mr. Nicholas. Can you help me escape?" Andreevich replied cautiously, avoiding sharing too much information.

However, Tang Dao was not one to be easily deceived. He narrowed his eyes, sensing that something significant had occurred. "Oh? Very well, give me your location, and I'll send my people to find you."

"I'm at the Popular Front Hotel on Cross Street in Kyiv."

"Alright, I'll see you soon," Tang Dao said before ending the call.

He couldn't help but wonder what had transpired to make Andreevich so desperate to leave Ukraine. Tang Dao knew that Andreevich had become entangled in his arms deal, and it seemed that things had taken a dire turn. He had many questions but decided to take action first.

If Andreevich didn't leave, he would almost certainly face dire consequences.

Tang Dao made up his mind and began contemplating his next steps.